


A Welcome Relief

by eowynstwin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynstwin/pseuds/eowynstwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Culleningus, plain and simple. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Welcome Relief

It had been a long, long few days.

Revas was completely frazzled—she’d returned from the Hissing Wastes only two days ago, having successfully discovered the tomb of some dwarf who died Creators-know-how-long ago,  _and_ slain the dragon guarding it (the skull of which she had insisted upon hanging, with the others, in the main hall, and the skin, bones, and scales of which she had arranged for prompt delivery to Dagna and Harrit), and Josephine had seen fit to take advantage of her presence by trussing her up in a frilly dress and presenting her to the nobles currently visiting Skyhold like a plump roast duck on a platter. Revas had been politely coerced into attending a small dinner party with them, which had gone on into the early hours of the morning.

_Then,_ after what seemed to have only been mere minutes after she had crawled into bed,Leliana had swept unannounced into her quarters (commenting that if she could get in so easily then maybe they ought to consider a few guards near the door, hm?), demanding that she write a full report on the Sandy Howler she’d vanquished, the tomb she’d discovered, the locations of the Red Templar camps she’d fought her way through, and the peculiar dog merchant, Betyar, that she had come across at the base of the canyon. Leliana had tapped her foot, arms crossed, while Revas had slowly dressed, departing only when she was sitting behind her desk with her quill and ink at the ready. Two hours after the spymaster’s leave-taking, Revas had written out what she hoped was a comprehensible account of the rather exhausting trip. She’d taken care to emphasize her trouble sleeping throughout the duration of her tramp through the desert; a rather spiteful jab at Leliana’s rude awakening.

Revas had dropped off the report after ascending three aching flights of stairs, deposited some scrapings and rags at Helisima’s table, greeted a rather drowsy Dorian (who had accompanied her, along with Iron Bull and Sera, for this particular trip) while passing through the library, and had, upon entering Solas’ workroom, been waylaid by his eager questions about the Fade rifts she had encountered in the Wastes. Thankfully Solas was as perceptive as always—Revas had nearly nodded off in the middle of one of his soliloquys, and upon noticing that the Inquisitor could barely keep her eyes open, let alone carry on a conversation, he chuckled with understanding and sent her off with a gentle “Perhaps another time, lethallan?”

She had  _intended_ to retreat to her quarters to take the longest nap she could possibly wrangle from the day, but the very same nobles from the night before had caught sight of her as she entered the main hall, eagerly calling out “Inquisitor!”

Revas knew the polite thing to do, the thing Josephine would have done even if Josephine had been on fire and completely naked: join them amiably, make polite conversation about absolutely nothing, and accept the inevitable dinner invitation that would be extended at the end of the meeting.

Revas was not feeling polite. In fact, she was feeling very much like a mouse being tempted with a rather unappetizing morsel of cheese into a trap so blatantly laid out that it was rather insulting to her intelligence. They were positioned, after all, in such a way that she would absolutely  _have_ to pass by them if she wanted to get to either her throne, the undercroft, or her quarters, and they clearly knew her position would force her to indulge their presence. She’d played the Grand Game at Halamshiral, and won, too—nothing Orlesian nobles did, when it came to her, was unplanned.

So she turned on her heel and walked briskly in the opposite direction, her gaze firmly locked out into the open air between the doors of the main hall.

“Something on fire, Inquisitor?” Varric asked jovially as she passed him. She only huffed in reply.

As she descended the steps to the courtyard, the tension between her shoulders growing by the minute, a runner approached. She waited at the bottom of the steps for Revas to finish her descent, and then announced, “Lady Inquisitor, the Comte du Montparnasse asked me to deliver a message for you. He cordially invites you to join him in the garden for—”

“No!” Revas exclaimed before she could help it. She did not openly refuse the company of one group of nobles to accept that of others—or was Montparnasse one of the nobles she had spurned just now? She hadn’t managed to memorize any of their names the previous night. “I mean—I, um…” she grasped for something—anything that could function as an excuse. Suddenly, inspiration bloomed as she remembered that she hadn’t spent so much as five minutes in the company of a certain someone since returning to Skyhold. “That is, I have important business to attend to with Commander Cullen,” she said firmly, “and I must decline. Thank you.”

The runner nodded at her and departed. With that crisis averted, Revas made her way past the Herald’s Rest to the stairway leading up to the battlements. Her thighs were screaming when she finally climbed the last step, and while crossing through the first tower that on the way to Cullen’s office she tripped rather spectacularly on a piece of stray plywood. After walking through the door, and the spider’s web stretched across it, it was safe to say that any fatigue she’d been suffering before was now buried under an overwhelming sense of irritation at the fact that even her own castle was apparently trying to make her day worse.

By the time she reached Cullen’s tower, she was positively cross. Once inside she slammed the door quickly behind her, scanning the room to see if there were any of his assistants present. There were none, and Cullen was standing at his bookcase, tome splayed open in one hand, having abruptly turned at her sudden entry.

“Where’s the key to these doors?” Revas asked.

“Corner of the desk?” he replied, his tone slightly confused.

She retrieved the key and went to the door directly across from her, inserting it into the lock and sliding the bolt shut. She repeated this action for the other two doors, leaning finally against the one in front of his desk, almost as if she did not trust the lock to do its job.

“Is everything all right?” Cullen asked, clearly concerned.

“No one,” Revas breathed, eyebrows bent into a fierce scowl, “will leave me alone.”

The corners of Cullen’s mouth twitched. He was holding back a chuckle, she could tell. He shelved the book he’d been holding and approached her, stopping just a few steps short of where she was leaning with her back against the door. She lurched forward and buried her face in his pauldron, winding her arms around his middle. The heavy warmth settling around her back informed her of his arms enveloping her, and the iron tension in her shoulders loosened slightly.

The fur of his cloak was musty, and she looked up to tell him so, but when she looked up she found him already gazing at her, with a tenderness in his eyes that brought a blush to her cheeks. He nuzzled her cheek with the tip of his nose and pressed his lips against hers, and she gave in to his soft kisses, her hands coming up to curl into the fabric of his mantle. She rose up slightly on her toes for a better angle, a deeper kiss, grazing his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and his arms tightened around her waist, almost lifting her off her feet completely.

He pulled back to bury his mouth and nose in her neck, murmuring “How I’ve missed you…”

“I missed you, too,” she replied, her fingers sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. “I’ve barely had a moment’s rest, I don’t even know what sleep is anymore.”

A wordless murmur was the only reply she got as he claimed her lips again. He began to walk backwards, pulling her along with him, indicating that he wished to direct her somewhere. He reversed their positions so that his back was to the door, and hers to the desk, walking her backward until her rear nudged its edge. She smiled into their kiss as she remembered the last time they had done something like this.

“If this is how it will always begin, I do wonder if your desk is going to be able to handle the stress,” she commented with a smirk, pulling away as she sat.

He couldn’t help but grin at that. “I’ll have to start keeping my paperwork elsewhere,” he said. He leaned over her to sweep his work to the side, and then resumed his ministrations, his mouth on hers and his hands on the desk at her sides, caging her in with his body. She cradled his jaw with both hands, reclining as she pulled him down, expecting his familiar weight to settle onto her. And it did—but then he pulled away.

“Hey!” she cried indignantly, propping herself up on one elbow as he straightened. Her irritation flared up again, but was quickly quaffed when she saw that he was removing his gloves and vambraces. Her stomach twisted pleasantly as he set them aside.

He shed his mantle and maneuvered out of his breastplate and gorget. Off went the metal pauldrons and the leather jacket, all joining the rest of his discarded armor, which was neatly arranged on top of his folded cloak.

Now it was just his cotton undershirt, the wide collar of which hung draped across the muscles of his broad shoulders. He didn’t remove that, however, instead bending down to hover over Revas as he started unbuttoning her shirt, pressing a kiss to her throat, and then her sternum. He pulled down the neckline of the light band around her torso and pressed his lips into the valley between her breasts, meanwhile reaching the final button at the hem of her overshirt.

Cullen trailed kisses back up her chest and neck, ending with her lips, but yet again pulled away, this time kneeling in front of her as he shuffled her forward slightly, hands under her knees, so that her rear just partially hung off the edge of his desk. He then hooked one leg over his shoulder. Revas’ breath quickened—was he going to…?

Cullen went to work unbuckling the boot of her free leg, his voice a low rumble as he said, “I may not  _always_ listen to Sera, but I’ve learned that sometimes it pays off to do so.” He slid the boot off, pressing another kiss to the top of her foot.

“I have a feeling I’m going to need to send her flowers,” Revas managed, her heart beating in her throat.

“Don’t give her the satisfaction,” Cullen snorted, working at the laces of her other shoe.

“No, I’d like to keep all that for myself,” Revas quipped. Suddenly she gasped, a breathy  _“Oh!”_ escaping her _—_ he had pressed the heel of his hand at the juncture between her legs, the tips of his middle and ring fingers into the little bundle of nerves at the top. He massaged her clit with small circles, pressing just enough for her to feel it through the fabric of her trousers, drawing an elongated moanfrom her lips.

“I do believe I’m all right with that,” he replied. He switched legs, hanging the bootless one over his shoulder and sliding the other off to work on. He pulled at the laces with one hand, massaging her continuously with the other—circles that grew and shrank in both size and pressure.

_“Mmm,”_ she sighed, rolling her hips in earnest. The other boot came off, and Cullen stood once again to bend over her.

His lips found her bare stomach; his fingers left her core, moving to the buttons of her pants and popping them open one by one. As he pulled them down by the waistband, he trailed kisses down one thigh, returning to a kneel as he painstakingly folded her pants and set them neatly next to her boots. Revas rubbed her thighs together impatiently, aching for the pressure he had stopped providing.

“Get on with it,” she growled. Cullen only chuckled. “You know,” she grumbled impatiently, “maybe I should just put all of those back on if you’re going to take an entire  _age_ to…to…”

Cullen was smirking at her, smirking from between her legs with an eyebrow raised and a look in his gaze that told her he was positive that there was no way she would actually move from that spot. Her words died in her mouth, which had gone dry. Cullen’s hands curled around her calves, massaging her muscles as they traveled upwards, continuously kneading until he hooked his fingers around the hem of her now-damp smallclothes and pulled, sliding them down her legs while he supplied a stream of kisses to her knee. She helpfully pointed her toes so he could pull them off. Apparently he had lost his patience as well, for he tossed them aside with far less care than he had shown her trousers.

Revas watched him—even on his knees, the upper third of his torso was visible above the edge of the desk. Her heart was hammering against her chest as Cullen hooked his hand under one knee and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, his warm breath spreading across her skin. He made his way inwards at a torturous pace, lining her thigh with kisses that were too soft, while his free hand rested unused on her other thigh.

The heat between her legs was becoming unbearable. She reached down to alleviate the pressure, her muscles throbbing, but he intercepted her, catching her hand and lacing their fingers together.

_“Cullen,”_ Revas said, growing impatient.

Another chuckle. Another kiss, this one right on her slit, and then mercifully he nuzzled her apart with the tip of his nose, teasing the soft pink flesh inside with an experimental flick of his tongue. Revas sucked in a breath, and he did it again; a small moan slipped through her lips. Cullen pressed the tip of his tongue into the space just below her entrance, dragging it slowly up the side of one lip and around the bud at the top, drawing a particularly loud hiss from between her teeth. Her fingers curled in his hair.

He trailed his tongue around the other side, returning to his starting position, and licked upwards, sealing his lips around her clit. Revas’ breaths came out in short huffs; he sucked at the button and then dragged the flat of his tongue from the base of her lips to the top and sucked again, setting a pattern of licking and sucking until Revas was whimpering, already nearing her release.

He broke the pattern, though, leaving her unfulfilled, to tease his tongue in between her folds, dragging the tip around in small circles and flicking her clit as he completed each revolution. He paused, a moan tearing through his parted lips and vibrating at her core, and Revas almost came undone then and there. Cullen could clearly sense the same: he released her hand and hooked her other leg over his shoulder, arms curling around her thighs and hands splaying across her belly as Revas tangled her now-freed fingers in his hair, clenching her legs around his ears, digging her heels into his muscled back.

The tip of his tongue caressed her entrance, circling it until the perfect moment; he pushed it in and drew it back out, coming back to suckle on her as he shifted in position slightly, brought one hand down, and slid a finger into her, pumping in and out before pressing upwards right below her clit, which he pulled at with a final suckle. The muscles of Cullen’s neck flexed between her thighs as he swallowed, and he pressed the flat of his tongue, now slightly rough for lack of fluids, against her labia. She cried out as he pulled it upwards, the dryness of it dragging her lips with it, and he pressed his teeth against her button as he slid another finger into her, pressing the exact spot that sent her tumbling over with a sharp gasp that quickly transformed into a series of breathy, panting moans.

Her muscles went slack as she came, her climax radiating from her core up into her hips. Cullen drew her orgasm out with long, intense strokes of his tongue between her folds. She sagged as the last waves of pleasure left her body; her legs might have slipped off his shoulders if he hadn’t been holding them. They looked up at each other; his lips and chin glistened as the corners of his mouth spread into a grin.

“Oh, Cullen,” she groaned, a laugh bubbling up as she lay her head back down. She heard him chuckle, and he maneuvered out of her legs, his weight coming to settle over her again. She felt boneless, positively loose—all her troubles from earlier in the day were a distant memory.

“Feel better?” he asked, propped up on one elbow as he caressed her bare hip. Revas clutched the collar of his shirt and pulled him down in reply, kissing him soundly, tasting herself on his lips. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tongue pushing past her teeth as a moan rumbled in his chest. Revas wrapped her legs around his hips, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and sneaking under to stroke the warm, smooth skin of his back.

Suddenly her exhaustion came upon her in a rush—she had to pull away to cover her mouth as she yawned widely. She gazed sheepishly at Cullen. “Sorry, _vhenan_.”

Cullen smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep?” he suggested, sliding off the desk. He found a clean cloth, ever thoughtful, and wiped Revas’ fluids from his mouth and from the juncture of her legs, and helped her into her smalls while she was still lay on his desk.

“What about you?” she asked as she sat up, having noted the way his arousal had pressed against her leg as he lay with her. She wasn’t one to take without giving back, especially where her lover was concerned.

He shook his head as he took her hands in his and pulled her up. “I’m not the one that needed it. Go rest.”

“You sure?” she asked. She  _wanted_ to, but Creators, she was tired…

“Of course,” he said, not a single touch of disappointment clouding the softness of his expression. He cradled her face with both hands.

“As you wish, Commander,” Revas conceded. She really  _did_  feel a mite too tired for another round, much as she knew they would both appreciate it. So she kissed him again, sighing as he caressed her cheek, and left him to dress, her boots and pants still where he had set them aside.

“Wake me up around suppertime,” she said to him as she climbed the ladder to his bedroom. He had finished putting the last pieces of his armor on, and was smoothing out his hair.

“Of course. Do you know what the cook’s making, by chance?” he asked as he gathered her things and tucked them into a desk drawer.

Revas found the idea of an agent delivering a report to Cullen while her clothes sat hidden away in his desk deliciously naughty—an idea made even better with her certainty that that was wholly Cullen’s intent.

“No,” she answered, pausing. Then she smiled slyly. “But I know what I’m having.”

“What are you—oh.” Cullen froze, turning red and scratching the back of his neck bashfully.

Revas snickered, ascending the final rungs into his bedroom. Even after having buried his face between her legs, even after hiding the evidence of what they had just done within arm’s reach for the express purpose of enjoying its nearness, he still blushed like the innocent Chantry boy he used to be. How she loved him so.

With the promise of later, she crawled into his bed, hearing a series of three clicks as Cullen unlocked his doors. A songbird’s tune drifted in with the sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling; the day was just warm enough to be cozy and just cool enough for the coziness to be comfortable. Revas shed her overshirt and wriggled underneath the coverlets of Cullen’s bed, cocooning herself in them as she drifted into slumber, all wrapped up in his scent.


End file.
